Flu Season
by peace4people
Summary: Dean wakes up to find he's feeling under the weather. Cas tries to help but Dean isn't having any of it. Destiel sickfick. Flu season hit me hard, so I decided to spread the...er...love... (T for language)


**A/N: Hello, hello. I wrote this little Destiel one-shot but I'm posting in two parts because I was only able to work through half of it today and I still need to make sure the second part doesn't suck. sick!Destiel One-shot, I've been sick so I'm spreading the love to my favorite characters. I'm still rocking like a 102 fever so sorry if this sucks.**

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Dean rolled over in bed and let his hand rest gently on his forehead, shit, he quietly mumbled to himself as he swallowed around the tenderness in his throat. The other man immediately turned over in their bed, he never actually slept – he didn't need to – but it gave their relationship the illusion of normalcy and they both needed that.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just need some water" a shiver ran through the man as his feet touched the ground, his fingers wrestling with the thermostat, "Damn, it's freezing in here, Cas."

"Sorry" Cas mumbled beginning to sit up in bed, for some reason the angel had a habit of turning down the air conditioning that nobody could explain. Dean was sure that, as a celestial being, he wouldn't really feel a temperature change, but at least once a week Dean would wake up in the morning to find himself unbearably cold. This time, however, he found the thermostat was still set at, what should have been, a comfortable 75 degrees. Dean shrugged and ran a hand through his hair causing tendrils of sandy brown locks to stand up in every direction.

He quickly moved away from the air conditioning and onto what had actually woken him up. He flips the bathroom light on and is taken aback by his own haggard appearance. Dark circles lay underneath his eyes, his cheeks have turned an unnatural shade of pink and his freckles stood out even more with the increased paleness of his skin. A cough echoes throughout the room and it's in that moment that he calculates what this all means, "Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Cas is out of bed and at his side in a matter of seconds.

"Nothing," His legs begin to shake unsteadily and he doesn't realize it, but he's soon leaning against the wall for support. Every swallow he takes burns the back of his throat and he has to control the urge to wince.

"Come back to bed." Cas places both hands on Dean's shoulders to steady him – he frowns, "You're really warm."

"Probably starting to get a fever." Dean mumbles pinching the bridge of his nose, his mind beginning to race with a thousand different thoughts, "Shit. You can't get sick, can you?"

"Not with human illness." Cas answers.

"Good," Dean mumbles nodding his head, "That's good. I don't want you getting sick."

Cas runs his hand through the other man's hair, pausing for a moment on his forehead. Dean shivers, still not quiet used to such an intimate form of contact, "You definitely have a fever."

"Thanks, Sherlock." Dean answers with a slight eye roll. He pulls away from Cas' touch and moves over to the cabinet that hosted their first aid supplies. His entire body feels as if it's being pulled down by lead. As he bends down to examine the contents of the cabinet, he's suddenly aware of the fact that every muscle in his body aches.

Cas squints his eyes trying to comprehend Dean's word, "My name…"

"It's an expression, Cas." Dean grumbles knowing what the angel is thinking without even having to look at him. He continues to push various bottle, sutures and bandages around searching for the right supplies.

"You're upset?" Cas asks trying to decipher Dean's tone. The more time he spent on Earth, the better the angel got at understanding the way humans spoke.

"No, I'm not upset…" Dean answers opening the bottle of aspirins and pouring out a few of them, "I just feel like shit, Cas."

"How can I help?"

"You can't." Dean answers around the thermometer that he's placed in his mouth. He sits down on the corner of their bed, quickly wrapping himself up in their comforter.

"Dean, I would like to know what humans require when they're sick so that I can be of some assistance to you."

The thermometer goes off and Dean examines it with a frown, "Look, just go see if Sam needs any help tracking down that wayward angel and I'll come out later after I get a little more shuteye, okay?"

"But Dean…"

"Look, Cas, I don't need you." The second the words come out, he desperately tries to take them back, "Shit, that's not…." The angel is already slamming the door behind him as Dean uses what little strength he has to call after him, "Cas! That's not what I meant. Fuck."

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**A/N: Ta-da (sort of)! Let me know what you think, please! Also, if you guys have any good sick!Dean or sick!Cas fanfic recs, please send them my way. OR if you have any links to imagines like that. Alright, I'm going to go sleep some more. Thank you for reading!**


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